Speak
by LeBrouhaha
Summary: But it was something, and until then, there had been nothing.
1. Chapter 1

He walked against that vast and frozen land, his figure wrapped in heavy fur and his mighty boots making dents upon the earth, sols allowing prints within that dry snow.

His skin, in all its misery, was placed inside such discomfort due to a great many rumors. He had come all that way because that idiotic American had, because wherever that idiotic American had went, he would follow, and he would succeed in all their stupid games.

Because he was Russian. And his name was Ivan.

And at that moment, he wondered why indeed he had made such a fateful trip away from his sweet and warm little home, all to nearly freeze to death in the aggressive hands of that barren land.

Ivan walked for what felt as hours-at least, he thought they were- and nothing came into those large and emptied hands. His blood filled with frustration and boiled, and for a great moment, he sat, taking in long breath of the frustration devouring him and praying for a reason to continue walking.

The bag came from his tired back and pressed into that horrid and spiteful frost, the clasps coming undone and a smaller container pulled from its innards. Ivan removed the lid and retrieved a loaf of bread from that mocking shell and took a desperate bite, hungry from so many aimless and forced steps.

"Ah!" He yelled in his partial relief and leaned back upon his right arm, wanting to scratch away the developing snow from his face, yet could not remove those gloves or the gathering ice upon them. "This place…I'm going to freeze to death." Another bite of that still substance.

Eyes touched to that environment and found nothing but winds contaminated with cruel spears of frost, kept so well inside that expansive nothingness.

Again, he wondered why he had come.

After minutes of sloppy and tired deliberation, thoughts had born and died within the silence. And suddenly, there was break through.

It was screaming.

And it was loud.

Immediately, the man rose and took his tangibles with him, knowing that if he was to leave them, they would never be found, and he followed that great agony, wondering if it was only a cruel trick built of his own ebbing insanity.

But it was something, and until then, there had been nothing.

Another blood curdling shout penetrated that bustling air, and Ivan kept his footsteps toward it, even though the snow squirming around him took the form of a blindfold. He lidded his vision against it, pained curtains taking the harm there would have likely been, and the man kept running, refusing to lose the one thing he might have obtained that entire and sufferable trip.

"Hello?!" His shouts came in English, hoping he could evoke any sort of response. "Are you alright?!"

That howling grew nearer and Ivan opened his eyes only a moment to find a thin creature running so quickly to him, its form in a panic and its flesh kept completely nude.

In slight surprise, Ivan shouted back, that odd and worried monster slamming into him and falling upon its backside, still yelling and crying and evoking horrid fear in either party.

Finally, calmness came as relief to a horrid storm, either pair of eyes locking with that nude creature infecting its own cheeks with frozen emotion and that nervous mouth gaping.

"Hey…Are you alright?"

The Russian man took a slight and gentle step towards that panicked figure and arms flew before its face, distress pouring away in unknown words from its sobbing mouth.

"I won't hurt you…" And knowing that he could not produce communication in either tongue, he utilized Russian, his words softer and far less coarse.

Slowly, his bag came to that marred ice and was set open, palms carefully sorting through that mass of items inhabiting it and pulled another container of bread from its core, stored the same way his last meal was. That wondrous essence was pulled from its hallowed shell and offered to the shaking thing. Those fingers kept in hesitance, but finally accepted that benevolent prize.

Yet, as soon as that sweet nourishment was obtained, it was dropped in fear and picked back up again, confused eyes of the emaciated being meeting with the donor of that odd substance.

"You eat it…"

The Russian man pretended to hold the bread and took an accentuated bite, imitating that chewing actions and rubbing his stomach afterwards, and feeling quite ridiculous he did so.

And that odd thing took a hefty bite, chewing with large bites and drawing circles about his stomach in the process.

Ivan smiled, observing that naked life with great amusement.

He wanted to believe that this odd creature was a human male, but who could survive in Antarctica without clothing and starving? Ivan barely held onto his energy within all his different layers and the abundance inside that wondrous kit.

"Did you enjoy that?"

Those deep blue eyes spoke of nothing but curious computation.

"Why don't you return with me? I'll get you some clothing and I'll give you something to eat…"

And that odd and moving statue of freezing flesh and marrow stood, anatomy calm and far taller than Ivan had suspected, although he still fell well below the Russian's boastful height.

"Sssssss-sssooo-mmmm"

"Something…" Ivan urged his word forward.

"Ssssssoooommmeee…t-th-tttthhh…"

"Thing…"

"Tt-tthiiing."

"Can you speak?"

"Sssssppp-pppeeeaaa-aaak. Ssssppppeeeeaaaak."

Ivan nodded. "Speak."

And that new teacher pointed to his lips and brought his hand slowly away, as if removing sound sleeping upon his tongue. "Speak."

"Ssspppeeeaaak." The action was repeated. "Sspeeak!"

"Yes. Speak."

"Yyy…eeeessss. Yyyeee-esss."

"Yes."

Ivan finally held out his hand was given a response in inquiry of those glassy and dense jewels. In uneducated curiosity, the starving man took that large palm and held to it as though it was a holy relic willing to save him from the hell he was perpetually lost inside.

"Sssspppeee-Ssspeeak. Yyyessss."

"Yes. Will you come with me?"

"Cccc-oooome."

"Come." Ivan gestured towards himself as if pulling a lengthily rope tied around that soul's thin waist. "With me." And that large man touched to his heart. "Come with me. Yes?"

"Y-yesss."

"Good."

"Gooooo."

"_Good._"

"_Gooood._"

And the pair traced back to that man's camp, Ivan uncertain of what he had found, yet knew he could stop looking.


	2. Chapter 2

Pale fingers flexed, closing into a fist and then stretching out. Relief flooding with the motions of blood that flowed to bring colors back to those pained digits. It was just a plane, that is what Ivan tried to reason of his company; the only reaction he got was some pale man increasing his vice-like death grip.

The plane had landed sometime ago, but this precious gem refused to move, almost as though he had become solidified. Ivan would allow this, because it was a new experience, and he understood. Finally that shaky form stood, unsteady, but Ivan was there to support him, to keep him on his feet.

"Ready?"

"Rrr-eeead-ddy?"

"We go." He gestured to the door, where they could touch back to comforting ground.

"G-gooo… Yesss."

Progressive, two word replies showed this one was a fast learner; adding more to a growing vocabulary. Interest had been shown in everything, speech, items and objects, people, and the very clothes that graced him now. The pale creature had all but refused to put anything on because that very prospect vexed him. It took a lot of coaxing, but now the icy body was wrapped in a coat much too large for his thinned appendages.

Steps were uneasy and shaky, Ivan's large hand held tightly to one of those limbs, his other guiding him by the shoulder, urging him gently through the terminal, bare feet padding hesitantly into a lobby where several people were eagerly awaiting their personification's return.

Their people, tall and imposing, were not expecting another form. They held displeasure at the unexpected chance and were readied to berate the tall Russian, but they saw the wonderment in those glassy eyes. This guest was puzzle to his very core, and immediately warmth embellished their breasts for this pale humanoid.

"Have I received any calls while I was away?"

The spell broken.

"Yes actually, another meeting had been called for the countries. Tomorrow! Thanks to you disappearing suddenly, we aren't prepared in the least!"

"Da…"

Ivan was hearing what was directed at him, but didn't care anymore, far too busy watching pale lips trying to form anything being said, that mouth having never worked around such complexities. To top it off, that wide eyed look given to everything was amusing.

Bright lights, shapes and neon signs an everyday occurrence to Ivan, was something so new to the identity glued to his side. The entity flitted from his side, pressing his form against clear Plexiglas, eyes staring wide eyed at an unmoving stuffed animal: a Penguin facing the gem through that strange mirror. He looked perplexed as he tapped upon that opposite realm, trying to elicit a sound or movement from that faux form.

"It's not real."

"Ree-eal?"

The embarrassment of having to demonstrate a beating heart, and the act of breathing, including that classic wobble and muffled squawking, then pointing to that bird and giving a firm 'no.'

"Fake."

"Faaaake. Nn-not r-real."

Ivan rewarded his charge with a wolfish grin. A stretched pair given in return; testing and imitating…

"Yes." Ivan nodded and took the gem's hand.

"Yes." In reply.

Into the shop; that was their destination where the penguin resided. He plucked the soft plush from the shelf and dropped it into waiting cold arms.

Nothing but curiosity was held for the animal look alike. He poked the plastic eyes, pinched the felt beak and allowed fingers to drift through the fluff that felt nothing of an actual penguin's pelt.

"Yours." He pointed to the pale being.

"You-rrs."

Ivan frowned.

"No, _yours_. Say, 'mine'."

More confusion churning inside cloudy blue eyes.

"Ssay mmmi-ne…"

"Mine."

"Mine!"

"Yes! Yours!"

That animal held tightly in snow-hued arms, a pallid smile upon lips as Ivan beamed down at him.

"Mine." He whispered at the gift given to him.


	3. Chapter 3

The Russian man regarded his find soaking inside that steaming vat, those glossy eyes inhabited with his image and those lips curling into a pleasant shape. His knees were pulled near to his stomach and those long fingered hands sat upon blushing caps, as though the one possessing that odd stance was completely comfortable with another man at his side as he wore nothing more than a thin film of water and a grin so very alive with the presence of an extra.

It occurred to the Russian man that this odd creature needed a name.

The sponge stroked his nude back with a slow motion and that near child did not seem to mind, the one afflicting his hide with such kind movements nearly a witness to his birth.

"We're going to a meeting. Toris agreed to watch you while I attend…" That sponge absorbed its essence and befell those blond follicles as honeyed rain. "I need to give you a name."

"Naaame. What naaame?"

"It's what you're called. So my name is Ivan."

"My naaame iss…"

There was surprise at how quickly that thin life had acquired his information. After only a few days questions could be asked and basic communication was developing as a lively tadpole into a frog.

"Whooo mee?"

And the opposite thought through that heavy moment.

"Ivaaan, whooo mee?"

"You can be…" And again, those titles came as a flood, yet none seemed to fit that hole ridged with such odd carvings.

Dmitri

Andrei

Nicolai

Victor

Mitya

_Mitya… _

Yes. That was the tailored glove to that strangled palm.

"You're Mitya."

"Miityaaa. Miityaaa. Mityaaa." Sweet lips twisted and turned into something frustrated. "I amm Mityaaa. Mityaaa…" Marbles met with the Russian man's. "Annd you arre Ivaaan."

"Yes. And you're Mitya."

"And you'rre Ivaaan."

"And you're Mitya." A slight simper. "Do you like your name?"

"My naaame. I liiike." Those words were rolled over several times, the owner of that mangled speech trying in such desperation to pronounce those exalted sounds correctly.

Ivan offered a tinge of happy upset. "Don't worry; you're doing well…You're good."

"I am…Goood?"

"Very good."

"I amm good! Ivaaan is goood."

"Thank you, Mitya."

"Thhhaaannk you."

"I'm going to wash your hair, alright? Close your eyes."

"Clllosse eye?"

"Eyes."

Large fingers pointed to those lovely pieces of azure glass. "Closed." And lids befell his sight as curtains pummeling to a stage. "Yes?"

"Yesss."The newly donned Mitya lidded his vision and allowed the other's large fingers a gentle placement against his scalp, lather worked around those locks having been cleaned numerous times before.

Oddly enough, in those short days they had spent within the presence of one another, that mildly incoherent thing did not mind his baths. It was often times that Ivan would come to use the restroom and find that pale gem sitting within that tub, fully clothed and wearing an odd sort of smile.

Always, there would be the inquiry, "Baaath?" And more often than not, the Russian would reply, "Not yet."

The pallid body would exit the room without as much as a singular protest.

The soap was rinsed from those silvery follicles and a second waterfall came, that edition birthed from fear of residue.

"You can open your eyes."

And Mitya did, Joyous to view his companion again as though he had been missing for a horridly long duration.

"Ivaaan. Helllo."

"Hello, Mitya."

"You arrre goood."

"Thank you."

"Thhhaaannnk you…"

After that sweet creature had been cleaned, the water was drained from the tub and Mitya stood, thin figure affected by a towel and dried thoroughly.

As that rough material touched to delicate flesh, Ivan regarded that lily hue, a shade even paler than his own hide. A finger touched to his smooth shoulder, that little flat the consistency of fresh silk.

Mitya retracted a bit, not used to having such a light touch upon his defenseless frame.

"Mmm."

"I'm sorry." The cloth came to his neck in sweet motions, and then to his soaking hair.

A palm collapsed upon Ivan's cheek, the owner of that limb holding a frame afflicted with rouge. Fingers traced over his nose, his forehead, eyebrows, and finally, that set of lips suddenly made in such fascination.

"What thiss?" That voice was soft, as though those honeyed blades were not meant to overtake the other's helpless visage.

"That's my face." A careful set of numerals took that appendage and removed it from the owner's oval, coming to Mitya's only a moment proceeding. "This is your cheek." How wondrous that skin was. "Your nose; your forehead." Blades settled upon those neat lines. "Your eyebrows." And finally, those pink blossoms, poised in pretty confusion. "Lips."

"Liiips."

"Yes."

"I like liiips."

"I do too. Let's get you dressed. We have an important appointment tomorrow."

"A-appp-oiiin-t-mee-nt."

"Yes. An appointment."

That morning, Mitya was washed and dressed as he usually was, clothed inside a neat button-up shirt and hair brushed into cleanly order. That gentle creature did not seem to understand where exact they were going to or how they were to arrive there, or truly anything of that morning. His body simply accepted those fabrics and mouth that tooth brush and his feet to those dressy shoes.

Luckily, that meeting was set inside the office so near to Ivan's home. They descended those great stairs and took their residency inside that ancient black car, the Russian man fastening Mitya's seat belt and inserting that key into its proper cell, engendering a weighty roar from that tired engine.

A small amount of panic came into the outcast's racing blood, breath becoming even more rapid and mouth parting slightly, near wheezes exiting that dried orifice.

"It's alright." A large hand adhered to the shaken thing's shoulder. "There's no need to worry, you're going to be fine."

"F-fiiinnne."

"Fine." Ivan alleviated the poor monster's shoulder and took possession of his quivering hand, those thin phalanges creating extreme tension. The larger man's palm was held as a treasure captured after years of passionate searching, and mild calm overtook him.

"I'm going forward now."

"Fff-ff-ooo-wwaaarrrd."

"Yes."

"Yesss."

And Ivan did indeed go forward, the one at his side nearly falling into the clutches of relentless seizure.

It was a long car ride. And when they arrived to that proud building, Mitya fell from seat within that horrid cabin as a fish wriggling from the hand of a small boy and fell about the ground as if reuniting with a lost lover, tears draining from his sockets. Attention was attracted as bees to rich pollen.

And Ivan came to his knees inside that great mess of snow, caps soaked, and rubbed his counterpart's back as though they were alone; no one important stood within that expanding audience and judged that hopeless spectacle. No. They were alone and each fragment of Ivan's unwavering loyalty came to those embarking tears and muffled sobs.

"Shh; shh…Mitya, we're here now. Please, don't cry any longer."

Incoherent jargon spilled from his throat and the Russian man lifted him, holding that frail anatomy within his warmest embrace.

"Shh…Mitya, it's alright. It's alright. It's over now. And you're still alive. Please. Don't be so upset."

"I-Ivaaan."

"Yes…?"

"I-Ivaaan. Ivaan." The boy's mouth was embellished with his god's name as though reciting holy word, that heaving beginning to cease and that great legion of droplets freezing inside their crusade. "Ivaaan. Ivaaan."

And somehow, in those strange chants, the one addressed knew he was something exalted and important to the one so taken to him.

"It's alright."

"Alll-riiiggghhhht."

"Yes. Alright."

They rose and that sniffling blond wiped his eyes from pure instinct, moving inside that building at the company of his patient keeper, despite each and every stare they received.

When they found Toris, that near boy seemed to have calmed, breath at its normal pace and eyes searching every new crevice of that intriguing environment as a gift placed before him on Christmas morning.

"Toris, this is Mitya."

"Hello Mitya."

"Helllo."

"And Mitya, this is Toris. He's going to watch you while I take care of a few things, alright?"

"Alll-riigghhht. Wherre you go?"

"To a meeting. Please be good.

"Goood." A simplistic simper. "I am goood."

"I know you are. Good bye, Mitya."

"Goood bye."

The Russian man walked from his endearing companion, only to be followed moments later.

"No, Mitya." A laugh lived within his voice. "You stay here with Toris."

"Stay herrre?"

"Yes. You can't come with me."

"W-whhyy?"

"I have a lot of work to do. You'll be bored, and I won't be able to keep you happy. Just trust me. Stay with Toris."

"I noo waannt."

"Well, I'm sorry. You have to."

"No. Not haave too. Bee withhh Ivaaan."

There was only a sigh, imitated by the unaware counterpart, who assumed that gust held a tangible meaning.

"Mitya, please. Just listen to me."

"No. Listen too _mee_." Those jewels held a mangled sort of malcontent.

"Come on, Mitya. We'll have fun. And you'll be able to see Ivan again soon. It's only for about two hours. We can play games together or something."

"No!"

"Mitya! Stop being such a brat! You're going to do as I say! Do you understand?"

And at that yell, the one made so childish shrunk away, immediate tears choking and blinding him. "I-I sorree." A sob. "Sorreee."

But the larger man could only muster exasperated breath. "It's alright. _Please_; be good."

"I am goood." Wailing. "I am goood."

"Then prove it, Mitya."

"Prrrooove. Prooove."

"Yes. Be good."

"I am goood."

"Yes. You are."

"Ivaaan is goood."

"Thank you."

"Thhhaaank you…"

And Ivan left that poor and confused being to Toris, trying to swallow tears as the Lithuanian man took his hand with gentle intent. "Come on, Mitya. Let's go."

"Goo."

Toris was uncertain as to what he should express.

The Russian man came to his meeting, state in utter exhaustion, to find everyone's favorite American standing before that expansive room, that big stupid smile written all about his face as a fashion statement meant to be obnoxious.

"Hello everyone! I made a movie about global warming, so we're going to watch it."

The world sighed and Ivan lowered his face within those large hands, kneading temples with those battered fingers and, like each of the others, begged for permission to scream.

"Oh what? Would you rather have each other talk about capita and all that other boring bullshit? It's good; I promise."

The lights clicked off and that screen lowered from its home suspended upon the ceiling, each regretful eye adhering to that flat visage. That irritating blond man pressed the play button and another round of even stronger sighs arose from the audience, who were unfortunate as well as captive.

And before that torture could commence, Ivan raised his palm.

"Excuse me!"

He was ignored.

"_Excuse me!_"

A pause came and those moving pictures came to a screeching halt.

"_What?_ I wouldn't interrupt your movie."

The Russian man rose and cleared his throat, in no mood to put up with anything mildly irritating. "Firstly, I wouldn't make a movie for you _to_ interrupt, and secondly, is this all we're going to do today?" A slight pause. "We all have better things to be busy with than watching some film you made. If you want people to see it, put it into your own theatres; show it to your friends, or _something. _But don't waste my time with a video I don't want to see. I'll tell you what I want to do. I want to go home and sleep. And if I'm forced to watch some stupid movie when I could actually be accomplishing something, then I'm leaving and I'm going _to do _better things. And I'm _sure_ that most of these people would agree with me, having flown hours away from their homes to be here. It's insulting to them and to me. We came for business. Roll your little film _after_ the meeting for those who actually want to see it. But I want to get this over with. Would anyone else like to leave?" Ivan spread his arms and everyone glanced around, wondering if they should indeed stand.

And the next to rise was the Chinese man.

"I agree. I want to back to my hotel room and sleep. I'm too old to be wasting my time."

Either German. "We're both tired, Alfred."

Then nearly the entire room, all accept for Kiku, the polite Japanese man and companion to Alfred.

Ivan glanced to each of their faces. "I believe that's a fair percentage of people who want to actually start, Jones. So let's, shall we?"

And with a stomach full of betrayal, the American smirked. "So who was that freak you arrived with?"

"That's not-"

"No, _Braginski_. You wanted business, so here's business. If you've got another country running around there could be a problem. Let's talk about that, _shall we?_ Why don't you all sit down, since we're getting started?"

"I found him in Antarctica. And his name is Mitya."

"Antarctica? That's might interesting, isn't it? Where is he now? I'm sure he's got something to say, doesn't he?"

"No. He doesn't. Stop acting like a spoiled child because no one wanted to see your stupid film."

"Damn it, Alfred!" Arthur interjected, as he usually seemed to. "You sit down! This isn't what meetings are about, and _I _didn't come for some petty argument! _Who cares?_ We can deal with this later, and I'm sure Ivan's doing what he needs to do to make _everything_ official. And we can deal with the rest of the bureaucratic bullshit later. But right now, let's get to what we came here for because I _guarantee_ you, I am not happy after flying all the way from _London_ to _Russia!_ In fact, I'm just about ready to walk over there and start the goddamn thing myself! So do everyone a favor and commence the _fucking_ session!

And indeed, they commenced the fucking session.

Ivan left with a panicked heart nearly two hours later, knowing that Mitya would likely be involved with those horrid affairs just as he was, despite coming from a desolate wasteland.

With those thoughts within that buzzing mind, he found his companion behind a locked door, those familiar cries leaking from behind it.

And the Russian yelled into the wood. "Toris!"

"Ivan?" The porthole lost its defense and opened. "Mitya got bored with me and tried to find you. I had to lock the door once I got him back in. He's been sobbing the entire time."

"I'm so sorry."

"That's alright. I'm sure he'll be happy to see you."

"Thank you, Toris. I owe you."

"No…I'd rather listen to sobbing then go to another meeting. How was it?"

"Horrible."

"I'm not surprised." That space seemed to finally gape. "I think you should go in now."

"Thank you."

Ivan came into that space and found his poor jewel within that cramped corner, heart felling within his palms. The larger man's name was moaned in something as pain and with a kind voice, the desired idol called.

"Mitya…"

Immediate attention was allowed and those cries once so loudly screamed seemed to wither.

"I-Ivaan."

"Hello Mitya."

"Helllo."

That pallid creature stood and ran toward that exalted figure, standing before with fading tears. A large thumb removed the remaining droplets from his eyes and strong arms held him within a kindly embrace.

"Mitya, you can't be upset every time I go away. I can't be here for you every minute."

"Whhaat thhiiss?"

"This is a hug."

"Huuuuggg. I like huuugg."

"Most people do. Did you listen to me?"

"Yess. I lisssttteeen. Sorree."

"Don't apologize to me." They separated. "Apologize to Toris."

"Torrriss."

Ivan pointed to that poor Lithuanian, who looked as though he was unsure of what possible word to utilize; only offering an awkward sort of wave.

"Sorree Toris."

"That's alright."

"Sorree Ivaan."

"It's alright. Let's go home."

"Go hoooome."

And after another traumatic and exasperating car ride, the pair returned home, the Russian man holding his promise and going to sleep, that odd creature taking refuge at his side, desiring another embrace but going to sleep before any sort of affection was executed.


End file.
